Loved
by Child-of-the-Dawn
Summary: Summary: “I know he loved you..” But how did she know? No slash, just angst and a bit of fluff.


Title: Loved

Genre: Angst

Rating: K +

Summary: _"I know he loved you.."_ But how did she know? No slash, just angst and a bit of fluff.

note: italicized text is lifted directly from the book. It' necessary to make the rest of the fic make sense.

Enjoy!

* * *

_ "...just trust me blindly, trust that I know what I'm doing, trust me even though I don't trust you!_

_Never the whole truth! Never!"_

_ His voice cracked with the strain, and they stood looking at each other in the whiteness and the emptiness, and Harry felt they were as insignificant as insects under that wide sky._

_ "He loved you," Hermione whispered," I know he loved you."_

Hermione waited, silently, as Harry's eyes widened ever so slightly. He wanted to believe it, believe her, but there was so much pain flickering in the green irises that she could almost

predict what he would say once the moment of hope was gone. But she wasn't lying to him. And yet how she knew that their fallen Headmaster cared for him—_had_ cared for him—caught in

her throat. She couldn't get the words out, couldn't tell him that Dumbledore had begun to care long before his demise, perhaps even before Harry had become the subject of prophesy. That

she could only guess at, but then, _then_, she knew.

* * *

o0o Six Years Previous o0o

* * *

Madam Pomfrey, and a very stern Professor Dumbledore, had told them to go sleep while Harry recuperated from his many cuts and bruises, but Hermione found herself lying wide awake

in the girl's dormitory. Finally she could take no more and she slipped off the bed, sticking her feet back into her loafers as she hurried from the room.

She was careful to avoid meeting anyone, taking every secret passage Harry and Ron had already found during their own wanderings. She probably didn't need to be sneaky, seeing as

how most of the school was out celebrating the completion of what had to be the most eventful year in the last decade. She swore she heard Romilda saying something about an impromptu

Quidditch match.

Hermione paused at the doors to the infirmity ward, cautiously peeking in just in case Madam Pomfrey was in. She was, but only her shadow loomed from an open store cupboard. A few

new blankets and wraps were on the table next to it. Hermione quickly darted into the small hall that separated the office from the actual ward. Her hand went to push the door open--

The sound of the Headmaster's voice reached her ears, thankfully before she could reveal herself. She wouldn't ever be able to say why, but she had to stop. And so she listened, slowly

inching herself closer to the gap in the door.

"....you're going to be the death of me, Harry," Dumbledore was saying in a softer voice than she'd ever heard from him. Not that he was usually gruff, not by any means, but the tone he

spoke in now was not the usual distant kindness a Headmaster ought to have. Real worry colored his words, real relief as well. She understood that quite well. Even their deputy

Headmistress had almost fainted at how pale and still Harry had been. It hadn't helped that, in the Headmaster's arms, Harry had looked even tinier than usual.

"...and yet...," he paused. His back was to her, so she couldn't see his expression, but the regret in his words was plainly written in his tone. Hermione's stomach sank. They'd probably

hear from Voldemort again, and soon.

Dumbledore rose from his seated position and Hermione made a move to pull back. She had the feeling that he'd somehow missed detecting her, and she did not want to explain how

long she'd been standing there, but she stopped when he did. He hovered for a moment over Harry's bed and then, so quickly that she almost missed it, gently swept back some of Harry's

unruly black hair. And when he turned.....

She'd forget eventually, remembering only when a sobbing Harry was pulled away from what remained of the greatest wizard of the age, what she saw. But in that moment, in the fiercely

protective and infinitely loving face of Albus Dumbledore, Hermione knew that there was someone in their world who loved Harry in a way his blood relations never would.

* * *

o0o Present o0o

* * *

She couldn't find the words, and saying them wouldn't do much good when Harry was filled with that quiet rage that settled on him so easily now. So she didn't, even though Harry's next

words broke her heart all over again, for both of them.

_ " I don't know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me..."_

_ FIN_


End file.
